


Beginning's End

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Apprentance AU, Child Rythian, Family Feels, Family History, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't do anything. He couldn't think, He couldn't move or call for help, or even use his magic to escape. He was at the mercy of... what ever it was that was currently invading his body and pushing out his own magic. Like the strings of a helpless puppet to play with and fix and change. To tear out from the inside out and contort to it's liking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epilogue

_Think, you need to think._ Thoughts a complete mess, twisting and folding into unrecognizable beginnings of a sentce. A white hot feeling of pain raising alarms in his head of bad, bad, bad, bad! Mind in a jumbled mess that would impress, or maybe horrify, the best telepathics from the complexity. The energy corsed his body like racecars at the track, builing up firewalls over security systems, over passcodes of ideas until it looked like nothing from earth or any other known overworld knowlage could _begin_ to decifer, all just pass closed eyes - out of eyes naked sight but still _there._

_Break it down, start from the beginning._

If he had the capcity to keep a single thought, he would think it to be cruel irony that he was like this; energy beyond his control contorting his mind and twisting his body until he was a curled up ball of hot, sparking wire on the floor. Limbs twitching and muscles contracting painfully as to what felts like dull spikes push deeper into his magic supplies in ways he never knew were possible. The pain acted like conduets, feeding the energy inside and pulling some of his own out without his consent. He couldn't scream, he couldn't even make a sound because his body or its function ceased to work. It hurt, hurt so much that he couldn't bring himself to comprehinsable thoughts. Lightning traveled from his limbs in hot burts that boiled his insides until it left dull throbs of heat in its wake. It never dulled enough to stop the pain, just enough to stop to start back up again. 

His whole body rocked up in an arch as another set of magic forced its way in and begun to replace his own. He vagely registered the smell of burnt flesh from where his back met the ground and taste of iron in his mouth.

He couldn't do anything. He couldn't think, He couldn't move or call for help, or even use his magic to escape. He was at the mercy of... _what ever_ it was that was currently invading his body and pushing out his own magic. Like the strings of a helpless puppet to play with and fix and change. To tear out from the inside out and contort to it's liking.

_Break it down, start from the beginning and think._


	2. Small things can make the biggest changes

It was a book. Just a singular book. One that was so thick, using both of his little arms were almost not enough to pull it from behind the other books thrown out of the way. intricate design crafted into the spine and he traced each golden swirling pattern with a single finger, eyes wide in appreciation. The book itself was simply black, making the gold swirls stick out even more to where they seemed to glow from the sun filtering through the window. A thin layer of dust coated its cover suggesting it had long been forgotten, but other than that it was in pristine condition. He managed to heave it off the shelf and onto his favorite study table with some difficulty with him being so small. He even somehow managed to not scratch it either. 

Opening the cover with some trepidation, he tilted his head at the blank page where a title and author should be. There was nothing but a bare page, colored from age looking like brown sugar, staring back at him. He flipped to the next page to a similar page. That was.. odd. He didn't understand it, didn't books have words in them? Why would one be hidden away behind the rest if it was empty nothing? He gripped the last page and flayed the pages in a quick motion. Nothing -the book held no words of any kind, no pictures or even stray marks. Just clean brown sugar colored paper behind a black and gold hard cover. That couldn't be it! Who left a book empty? It was stupid and rather pointless of the soul purpose of a _book._

He closed the book and turned it to see the back and almost jumped at the eye that was carved into the black surface. He waited until his heart calmed again to look back. The eye was still there, carved in way that looked like someone had taken a knife to is surface without a care. Over all the lines were crude and straight, no time taken to keep the lines connected at a point, some going over themselves or just not connecting at all. He traced the lines curiously and flipped the cover over to the last page.

One word. One word stood alone in the middle, the ink carefully pulled across the paper in each letter.

_'End'_

End? End of what? The book? He flipped back to the front, again he saw nothing. the book was bare... except for the last page. It raised so many questions. What was it doing here? Why was it hidden? What did it mean by End? What did his-

"Rythian boy! Hurry up down here!"

Rythian jumped at the deep bellow of a gravely voice of his master from down stairs. Quickly he closed the book and shoved it back into place, piling the books in the same spots as fast as his little arms could. He grabbed his bag by the door before rushing down stone steps.

"Comin'!" Came the tiny reply and he reached the bottom step. 

He was greeted with the sight of an old man looking in his late eighties with a rucksack in one hand and his other behind his back. The old man was grinning, a large welcoming smile full of uneven teeth. His White hair was more mussed up and wild that normal and glasses fogged from working over fire and his life.

"Ah! There you are!" The man greeted with fondness in his voice.

"Afta' noon master Hign." Rythian bowed. The old man chuckled.

"Now, now, no need for formalities today boy." Hign said, stepping closer to ruffle Rythian's hair. "At least, not on your tenth birthday."

Rythian gave a curious look before it turned into a look of wide eyed amazement as the hand from behind Hign's back revealed itself. Rythian gasped and took the gift into his hands with care, tiny body practically beaming as he unwrapped the tiny package.

It was three seconds and he was hugging the old man in a death grip. The old man laughed and pated his back.

"Easy now, I'm not as indestructible as I was." Rythian let up on his grip but didn't let go, a series of thank you leaving his lips. 

"It's the best gift _ever!_ " He squeaked, looking at the necklace that swung in his hands. 

A simple glass orb crafted into the color and shape of an Ender pearl hung from glittering silver wire. It wasn't as big as the real thing but just as fragile and the hard work put into it was clear as day to see. Hign pulled from the hug to get on his knee's. He took the necklace and slipped his over the younger's head where it rested comfortably around his neck. Rythian grinned wide and hugged his master again, this time able to give a proper one now that they were eye level.

"I'll never take it off." 

True to his word, Rythian never took it off even once.

-  
He forgot about the book after that. Even when he returned to the library upstairs to study or just spend time reading from the magical history section, the black book with golden swirls and carved eye in its back never came to mind. He focused all of his time to the teaching of his master, Hign, a skilled blacksmith with coal tattooed to his skin and steel in his bones. Despite his age he was still revered as the best around. It was a kind of miracle that Rythian, of all children, was chosen to take up his miracle and teachings at Hign's apprentice. It wasn't as if he was a bad child, but he wasn't known to follow basic rules. Also, he had a habit of taking your belongings and be gone long before you noticed, which made his the least likely choice, but it happened. It took from age four to age ten to fix that issue. Hign became the father Rythian never knew he wanted until he had it.

It's how he came to look after the old man like family, helped his on his extra slow days from pain of old age. It's also how he happened to come across the book in the first place. He wanted to do something special, make something from his own hands, so he was scouting for idea's. Sure, he couldn't actually use the smeltery yet, or was big enough to work with motlen steel, but that didn't mean he couldn't put the things he could do to good use and make something from his own hands, right? 

It was a few months later that he had come across the book again. The same set of books hiding it pulled from the shelves and all open to various pages. He had read most of them at least once, some he just couldn't understand yet so he planned on building up his understanding them coming back to them and read them when he could grasped what the words meant. He pulled the black book out and flipped it to the last page. The single world 'End' was still there, as well as the blank pages. He flipped to the first page and reached for the pen and quill from the table. He dipped the tip in ink and decided to add to the page. He grinned, knowing just what to Write.

_'Rythian'_ showed in proud black ink, drying into the brown sugar pages. 

He closed the book, and instead of hiding it away, he set the book into his bag that held one or two other books about monsters, and a tiny sketch book filled with child drawing here and there. Rythian Started putting the other books away. 

"Dinner boy!" Hign called.

Rythian put the last one away and raced down the steps two at a time, bag and new book in his possession.


	3. The start is the easy part

It became his diary, in a way. The book helped clear his thoughts and sort out his feelings if he was having a particually ruff day. He took care of it, keeping it in his bag when he wasn't writting in it and making sure nothing could harm it when he pulled it out. It became the second most valuable thing he owned, his pearl necklace being the first. Everything else could get damaged, but those two things he treated with the highest of care, taking extra measure to keep them safe.

It eventually became Rythian's way to calm down after the day. He would retire for the night, turn on his flashlight with covers pulled over his head like his own personal space of cotton sheets and write. Sometimes he wrote about his day, or describe the people he saw that day, but his favorite by far was writing story's. Short adventures that lasted a few pages at a time. It became easier to do so when he wrote like he was talking to the pages like it was a person that could hear him. There were drawings too, some scattered here and there when words couldn't quite describe like he wanted it too. By age twelve, he had a rather large section filled with no space left bare, but the book still had more to go. A _lot_ more.

He never told Hign though. The book was something his and his alone, a piece of safety that he only knew about, not even his adopted father. Well - _master_ \- but it was the closest thing he ever had to one so it still counted, in his mind.

Rythian huffed and stopped writting, re-reading the sentece drying onto the paper. The book and himself jumped, the carriage jolting as it transitioned from uneven dirt road to smooth pavement. Rythian shoved the book and pen in his wore-down bag of mny years and lifted the cloth he had snuck under half way down. It covered the trade supplies as well as himself with just enough space for him to hide under, away from the cold of the morning. The trip from his small rather behind-the-times town to the more modern city wasn't a long one nor his fist but it was always a cool sight to witness. Rythian pushed himself out of the tiny hiding spot and plopped next to Hign, who was holding the reign's or the two gray dappled horses hauling the carrage along.

"Take the reign's boy." Hign grunted. Rythian happily took them from the old man's unsteady hands. He liked steering, it was fun to do when there was little else he could do until they stopped. Already he could see the cities skyline come into view from this distance.

"Quite a sight eh?" Hign fixed the hat on his head. "Almost makes our little town look midevil."

"I like it." Rythian smiled. "Expecially the magic trick guys we saw last time!"

"Intrested in magic are you?" Hign chuckled at Rythian's enthusiatic nods. "Never got much into it myself, was more interested in heating metl then making potions."

The twelve year old perked up. "Potions? What do those do? Are they magic too?"

Hign laugh a little more, slowing the carage down carage to a stop. Rythain didn't even notice they had reached there destination. He hopped down after his master did, grabbing a few small sacks full of trading material.

"Tell you what," Hign spoke up as they entered the first shop, "If we managed to get some good trades this run, we can stop buy the magic shop and get a few books on the subject for you. Sound good?"

"Really!?" Rythian's blue eyes were wide and smile was almost too big for his face.

"Really."

" _Yes_!"

-

The day didn't go so bad but it could of been better in Rythian's oppinion. By the end of the day, they had traded less than half the stuff and sold the rest from lack of good trade. Hign, of course, saw it as a good day. So Rythian almost busted a fuse when they stopped in from of the magic shop.

It was five seconds before he had bounded off into the shop's doors, Hign calling out for him. He almost missed the _"Slow down, boy! The books aren't going to walk of the shelves by themselves!"_ from behind him.

Inside, book selves lined the back walls behind the counter. The walls were covered with either paintings of important hisorical figures or drawings of magic circles. Despite the stale atmoshphere of leather and dust, it was peaceful. The bell on the door ringed shrilly compared to the quiet of the shop. He almost whinced it seemed so loud. Rythian explored the shop, looking at the wierdly named ingrediance in various sized jars along the selves.

_Magma cream, Nether Wart, Blaze powder..._

He had no idea what any of these things were, or what they were for but they sounded important if not a little strange. He shrugged and moved on. There were pre-made potions on the front counter, the light refracting to look like they were glowing. After a moment of staring he wondered if it was just a trick of the light or they actually were. He kind of hoped they were.

"Can I help you?"

Rythian would never admit the squeak of suprise that he made, which earned him a snicker from the same voice behind him. He turned to see a kid with curly orange hair and pointed ears grinning at him. The other was shorter and smaller in size than Rythian. Younger maybe?

"Just looking."

The kid shrugged and hopped onto the counter with minor trouble and Rythian walked up to him. The books were behind there anyways, and he needed to see what his options were. The kid watched him with interest, looking between the older boy and the bookshelves behind him before speaking up again.

"Got a name?" He asked. Rythian paused.

"Rythian."

"That's an odd name."

Rythian rolled his eyes. "What is your's?"

"Sjin."

"Shin?"

"No, _Sjin_ "

Rythian tried a few more times, rolling it off his tounge with some difficulty. Finally he got it right and Sjin nodded at the right pronunctiation of his name.

"And you call _my_ name odd." Rythian teased. Sjin stuck out his tongue at him.

Suprisingly enough the two didn't have trouble talking like Rythian thought he woul with others. Sjin was willing to answer any questions Rythian had and vice versa. To say that became fast friends was an understatement. When Rythian asked about magic, Sjin turned into a liny curly haired chatter box. Sjin even pulled out books that he already read from the shelves too hand to the older boy as he talked, sometimes flipping to random pages for Rythian to get what he was talking on about. It left him wondering how Sjin could go so long without taking a breath.

Sjin was lucky Rythian was a good listener.

By the end of it all, he had spent a good few hours just sitting and talking. Things were cut short when the front bell jingled and Hign had walked in to inform Rythian they had to go. Both boys jumped off the counter and shooke hands. Rythian pulled out a sack of coins to pay for the books but Sjin shook his head.

"Take 'em. Free of charge for first buyers."

"You can do that?"

"Heck if I know."

 


End file.
